


Baking Soda and Vinegar

by Bluehaven4220



Category: Wilby Wonderful (2004)
Genre: Divorce, F/M, Friendship, My First Work in This Fandom, Sandra is a good friend, Six months later, picking up the pieces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 21:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11239776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluehaven4220/pseuds/Bluehaven4220
Summary: Six months after the events of the movie, Carol gets back on the ferry to Toronto, and Buddy tries to keep himself busy enough to not think about how everything fell apart. A few hours later, Sandra comes to the door, offering tea and sympathy (of a sort)





	Baking Soda and Vinegar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ButterflyGhost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/gifts).



> Welcome to my very first Wilby Wonderful story! It's been one of my favourite movies for years, and I thought I'd try my hand at a new fandom. I hope you like it!
> 
> For ButterflyGhost, for being such a great friend.
> 
> Currently unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

 

It didn’t take long for Buddy and Carol to see that there was no saving their marriage. Still, it was important to both of them that they knew the Watch scandal and Dan Jarvis’ suicide attempt had not actually been the catalyst, but rather the straw that broke the camel’s back. The morning after he’d persuaded (or threatened, depending on your perspective), Brent Fisher to pull the scandal from the Sentinel, they had walked back home, not touching. They’d tried to work on their relationship, but the morning that they realized it was over, they’d eaten breakfast and had barely spoken, aside from “taking the day off?” and “looks like rain” until finally, she’d said it.

“I think it’s over, Buddy.”

“I agree,” the words had been out of his mouth before he’d had a chance to think about it. There’d been no tears, stress, or anxiety in actually admitting it. It seemed as though they’d both known it was over for a while, especially after _that night_. A few minutes later, she told him that she’d actually been planning to leave for quite a while; she’d transferred her real estate business back to Toronto and had already found an apartment. But, she’d made it very clear that there was no one else waiting for her on the other side; they’d simply outgrown each other, and getting divorced was the only option they had left.

Buddy didn’t have the strength to argue with her. Instead sighed and said: “When you’re ready to go, I’ll drive you to the ferry if you like.”

She gave him a small smile. “Just to see me off, then?”

“Just to be sure you get there safely.”

They decided it would be best if Buddy stayed at his mother’s house (they’d never be able to sell it now, not after the Dan Jarvis situation), and it made sense for Buddy to stay where he felt comfortable. After all, Carol could handle the sale of their house from Toronto if he wanted. Yes, he'd answered. That would be best. After settling that part of it, moving Buddy’s things would be easy, especially after she’d gotten everything of hers that she wanted to take out of the house itself.

The next week and a half was filled with getting all the arrangements in place, including filing for divorce. They’d worked out who would be getting what, and so it was just a matter of filing the petition, signing it, and then waiting for the divorce papers to be processed. She’d called him the day after the papers had been filed and asked if he was still willing to drive her to the ferry in the morning. He’d said yes. In fact, if she wanted the first ferry out at 6:30, he’d be at the door at 5:45 to collect her, suitcases and all. Also to collect the keys.

He could hear the relief in her voice as she thanked him.

ooOoo

Getting Carol to the ferry had been the easy part. She’d kissed him goodbye, then had walked onto the deck and not looked back.

He hoped they’d done the right thing. No, he couldn’t think like that; he _knew_ they’d done the right thing. It was just a question of knowing how to move on.

Once the ferry had disappeared out of sight, it took all his strength to back the car out and drive "home" to his mother’s house.

But he didn’t go back. At that moment, he couldn’t face a nearly empty house. Instead, he drove to Iggy’s, hoping against hope that Sandra was there already. Although he was sure she wasn’t going to let him in, not after how he’d treated her. Frankly, he knew he deserved whatever punishment she decided on.

Then again, he’d never known Sandra to be the vindictive type. Maybe, just maybe…

He pulled into the restaurant’s small parking lot, breathing a sigh of relief at seeing her car there. She’d had the dining room and kitchen going for breakfast and lunch for about five months, and people seemed to be really enthusiastic about the fact that Iggy’s was up and running again, and having more options on Wilby was a good thing for everyone concerned.

Steadying himself, he got out of the car and walked to the front door, pushing it open and hearing the bell over the door ring, signalling his arrival.

Sandra appeared in her apron and pointed to one of the empty tables, handing him a menu.

“Eggs, bacon and toast with beans on special today, Buddy,” she told him as she set a mug down on the table and poured him a coffee. She put some creamer down on the table and turned on her heel. Just as she was about to go back behind the counter, she stopped and turned to look at him again. “Something the matter this morning?”

Buddy shook his head and stared into his coffee cup, wondering if it were possible to drown in it. Okay, maybe that was a bit extreme, but he still felt a bit like yesterday’s garbage. Even if he’d known that his marriage was over, it had still been incredibly painful to watch Carol walk away and out of his life.

“Come on, Buddy,” Sandra slid into the chair across from him and crossed her arms, leaning on the table. “I’ve known you too long for you to lie to me. What happened?”

He sighed, still staring at his coffee, as though willing it to disappear. “Carol left on the ferry this morning.”

Sandra nodded slowly, looking off to the side. She had nothing _against_ Carol, but would it be wrong of her to be happy about the woman’s departure? After all, she and Buddy had seemed so… mismatched. As soon as Sandra had come back to Wilby with Emily in tow, and met Carol for the first time, she’d seen that Carol was much more ambitious than Buddy, wanting more than her small real estate business on Wilby. She still didn’t know how Carol and Buddy had met in the first place, but it wasn’t her business and she didn’t _want_ to know.

Still, Sandra reasoned as she reached across the table and put a hand on his arm, she and Buddy were friends, never mind what had happened between them six months ago, and she’d do what she could to help him. Letting go, she got up and started back toward the kitchen.

“You interested in the special? Might just be the thing you need.”

He smiled at her and put his menu down on the table. “Sure, sounds good.”

Sandra winked and went back into the kitchen to start on his breakfast.

As the breakfast crowd (if the three or four regulars including Irene could be considered a crowd) trickled in, Buddy sat in the corner, picking at his breakfast, a bite of scrambled egg here, a spoonful of beans there… maybe once the diner emptied out a little later, his stomach would allow him to eat a little faster. But right now, he could feel everyone’s eyes on his back, as though they knew Carol was gone, and wondering aloud what part Buddy had played in her departure. Not that they’d ever _fully_ accepted her, they had been polite and nice as she was Buddy’s wife, but it was clear from the very beginning that Carol _did not belong_ to the island.

Finally, he couldn’t stand it any longer. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his wallet, laid a few bills on the table in payment for his food, went back out to his car. He bolted out of the parking lot and back to his mother’s place. Lucky for him, he had the day off, so no one would be looking for him. Perfect. He could lock the door and lick his wounds in private.

Licking his wounds, it turned out, meant having to _do_ things. He changed into what Carol had called his “puttering around the house” clothes and set to work. Starting upstairs, he scrubbed the bathrooms, vacuumed the floors, dusted the old furniture in the bedrooms and swept the floor in the garage. Then he made his way into the kitchen and washed every inch of it, until he could smell the baking soda and vinegar on the counters and on his skin. After that, he retreated into the old office turned workout room and worked the bench press until his arms felt like overcooked spaghetti. In fact, he’d been about to start a load of laundry and get dinner on the stove when he heard a knock at the door.

Blinking as though no one had ever knocked on the door in his life, he shook his head and went to answer it.

Sandra Anderson was standing on the other side, a cherry pie in her hand.

“Figured you might need some company,” she smiled as he stared at her, wide-eyed. “Can I come in?”  

He couldn’t do much more than nod, stepping out of the way as she came in the front door and marched right into the kitchen, setting the pie and a doggy bag from the diner on the counter.

“Leftovers from the lunch special. Meatloaf with green beans and mashed potatoes if you want,” she pulled container after container out of the bag and acclimatized herself to the kitchen once again. He’d almost forgotten that Sandra had spent a lot of time in his mother’s house when they were kids; it was good to know that she still knew her way around the place. He watched in awe as she turned the oven on and arranged the food in pans to be reheated. “Something interesting?”

“No, it’s just…” Buddy leaned against the door frame. “Thanks for coming over, Sandra, but I’m not dressed for company.”

“Pfft, since when did _that_ matter?” Sandra opened the oven door and slid the baking pans in. “Okay, twenty minutes until these are ready. If you really want to change your clothes, go ahead.”

Buddy smiled. “Nah, I think I’m okay for now,” he answered as he walked behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “You know you didn’t have to do this for me, Sandra, not today.”

“Uh, yes, _especially_ today,” she resisted the urge to smack his arm. “Buddy, it doesn’t matter what happened between us before. Really. You’re my friend. You’re hurting. I’m here to help. Thing one, thing two, and thing three. Anyone who has anything snarky to say about that can go spin.”

Buddy snorted. “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

“You say thank you,” she pointed out, patting his arm so he would let her go. “Just as you did there.”

They stood in silence together for a few minutes, watching the oven timer count down. Slowly, tentatively, he took her hand and held it.

“You’re a good woman, Sandra Anderson.”

“I try,” Sandra squeezed his hand as the timer on the oven buzzed. “Set a few places, Buddy. Supper’s on.” She turned and noticed his expression. “That is, if you want me to stay.” She knew what it would look like to the neighbours, especially with how quickly gossip spread in Wilby. The fallen woman having dinner with a man whose wife had just left on the ferry that morning, but she didn’t care. There was nothing between them but… friendship perhaps. They were simply two friends having dinner together.

There was an extremely sad look in his eyes, Sandra noted as he opened the cupboard and pulled out two lonely plates and dug into the cutlery drawer for forks and knives that she was certain didn’t match. Even though she knew he’d only moved back into his mother’s old house a week or so ago, this was extremely sad. Surely he had to have more from the house he’d shared with Carol. Then again, she’d seen that there were boxes upon boxes in the hallway and living room, he probably still had to go through those, and the house would look more like a home again soon enough.

She also wasn’t sure if he’d ever lived on his own for more than a few months after finishing his training on the mainland, and now he was alone for the first time in what she guessed was close to ten years. Truth be told, he looked lost and scared, although he was trying very hard to hide it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sandra saw him set the table and waited as he came back into the kitchen to help bring the food out. Once they sat down together, she saw the tension in his shoulders almost completely melt out of his body.

It should have been extremely awkward, she thought, sitting together when they’d been _this_ close to having an affair. But now, even though things had changed between them (when she’d finally told him that there was no way she was going to be sleeping with him while he was still married), maybe what they had now wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe once a little more time had passed, they could work on being better friends.

“You know, Buddy,” Sandra put the pan of meatloaf on a trivet and sat down. “You did the right thing. No matter what Brent Fisher may have to say about how you handled things with the Watch, you probably saved people’s lives.”

“It was more like cleaning up his mess,” Buddy took a piece of meatloaf and let it fall onto his plate. “Everyone was making a circus out of nothing.” He cut into the meatloaf and took a bite, followed it with a sip of water. “Actually it wasn’t until Fisher’s daughter said something that I really put two and two together.”

Sandra said nothing, as though she understood that he couldn’t tell her much more than that. At least not yet. But, if the rumours were true, that Buddy had “persuaded” Fisher to kill the story in the Sentinel in exchange for not pressing charges, then, hopefully, the whole thing would fade away, and, in a few months, life on Wilby would go back to normal.

Right. _Normal._ It was six months later and people were still talking about it.

“With Fisher retiring, have you thought about running for mayor?” she asked to avoid the awkward silence that was settling between them.

Buddy snorted. “No, not for me,” he insisted as Sandra passed him the bowl of mashed potatoes. “Besides, now that we’re short handed, I’ve got to start looking at some of the new recruits coming in, see if I can start them training with me.”

Sandra nodded her head. It seemed that no matter what she tried to turn the subject to, there was still an awkwardness in the air that would not dissipate. Thank God Emily had decided she wanted to stay home with a book and a bowl of instant soup (though why she occasionally liked those things Sandra would never understand) instead of coming with her, because there were a lot of things she and Buddy needed to talk about, and most of them extremely awkward.

ooOoo

Buddy noticed how quiet she had gotten.

“You alright there, Sandra?”

She took a sip of water. “Did I ever apologize to you?” she asked him.

“What for?”

“For what I said to you that day after Duck just about caught us out?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh Buddy, you can’t be that thick,” Sandra shook her head. “I threw the fact that you were married back in your face when in reality, I wasn’t the wronged one in that situation.” She put her fork and knife down and placed her elbows on the table, holding her cheek with one hand. “Honestly, I think I was hurt that you’d found Carol and was married to her and not me.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” he insisted, reaching across the table for her hand. “If anything, that made me see what was missing, that my marriage might have been worth saving. Of course, that’s kind of a moot point now. We’re just waiting for the papers to be processed and then that’s it, Carol and I are both free. We don’t have to have anything to do with each other again if we choose not to.”

“But that’s… what? Nearly seven years of your life gone? As though it didn’t happen?”

“Nine years, we dated for two years before we got married. We're not saying that it didn’t happen, just that it isn’t working anymore, and we can’t do anything more to save it,” Buddy answered. “She needs more than I can give her, than what Wilby can give her. Whereas me? Well they’ll bury me on this island and no mistake.”

There wasn’t much Sandra could say to that, and she looked as though she knew it. After being away for so long, she also knew she wasn’t going to be leaving Wilby again, not with Iggy’s doing so well. Emily was also tired of moving, and had made herself clear: she was going to stay on Wilby, and that’s all there was to it.

“So then, what happens next?” She interrupted her own thoughts, turning her focus back to her conversation with Buddy.

Buddy sighed and took a swig of water. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I suppose I’ll just have to carry on. Keep myself busy.”

“Well you’ve sure been busy today,” Sandra smiled and stabbed a green bean with her fork. “As soon as I walked in I could smell the baking soda and vinegar.”

“Old cleaning trick.”

“Yeah I know, I use it myself,” she answered as she finished the last of the beans on her plate. “The place looks lovely, though. Did you buy it back?”

“It was never sold, so we just took it off the market,” Buddy explained as he got up and picked up his empty plate. Walking around the table, he gestured to her plate as well. “All finished?”

“Yes, thank you,” Sandra got up and set to clearing the remainder of their dinner from the table. “I’ll do the dishes, Buddy, don’t worry about it.”

“No no, you cooked, I’ll do them,” he insisted. “But if you really want to, I’ll wash, you dry?”

“Deal,” Sandra put the rest of the meatloaf, mashed potato, and green beans on the counter and went in search of tupperware. There wasn’t much left, so she could pack everything away and Buddy would have enough for either lunch or dinner the next day. In the midst of the moving and cleaning, it didn’t look like he’d done a grocery shop yet. Once she’d located a few containers with matching lids in one of the cupboards, she handed them to Buddy, who was filling the sink with dish soap and water. “Wash those out for me, please?”

He did so, handing them back and watching as she dried them with the dish towel that had somehow found a resting place over her shoulder. Once dried, she scraped each of the serving dishes into the containers and placed them in the soapy water. “There,” she pronounced, securing the last of the lids on the containers. “I’ll just put these in the fridge and be right back.” Turning around, she opened the fridge and was greeted to the sight of a single bottle of ketchup, half a loaf of bread, and the remnants of orange juice in a carafe. “Holy Hell. Buddy, when was the last time you did a grocery shop?”

“Was going to today, but ran out of time.”

“Jesus Christ on a bike. Okay, tomorrow morning you’re going to the grocery store, because this is pitiful.”

“Yes Mom,” he muttered.

“Don’t call me that,” she snickered. “There’s only one person on this island who calls me that and she’s almost seventeen years old.”

“I was joking, Sandra,” he smiled as he handed her the first of the newly cleaned dishes to be dried. “I’ve got another day off tomorrow so that’s the first thing on my list.”

“Good,” she grabbed the towel off her shoulder and set to her task. Whatever couldn’t be dried with the cloth went into the drying rack. “Just how many vacation days have you accumulated?”

“About two weeks worth, haven’t needed it too much this year,” Buddy kept his eyes on the dishes in the sink. “Any particular reason why?”   

“No, only curious,” she insisted as they finished the dishes. Not knowing what else to do, she followed his lead as they went back to the living room and sat down on the couch together, staring at the TV, not quite sure what to say. “Although one other thing I’m wondering about…”

“Yes?”

Truthfully she wasn’t sure what else she was wondering about. She’d almost hoped that he’d say something and then she’d be able to pick up the conversation from there. But, when in Rome, as they say…

“Is the Watch going to stay the same?” There, that would do.

“The same how?”

“As in, it's not going to be developed?”

“No, not as far as I know,” Buddy rubbed his eyebrow, as he tended to do when he was nervous or thinking hard about something. “I think the deal that Fisher was making fell through, but don’t quote me.”

“I’m not a reporter,” Sandra chuckled. “Why would it have fallen through though?”   

“I said I think, I don’t know for sure,” Buddy leaned back, suddenly very uncomfortable again. He knew he couldn’t discuss an open investigation with anyone, but this case in particular sat on his chest. There were so many things that could have ended much worse that night. If Carol hadn’t cut Dan down, he would have died. If he hadn’t caught Stan planting evidence, he wouldn’t have been able to save the Watch from becoming a golf course, if Elaine Fisher hadn’t mentioned Brent’s mother was a diabetic, he wouldn’t have put two and two together and realized what Stan had claimed to have found earlier in the day. Well, he’d already known they were for insulin injection, but what he hadn’t made the connection immediately.

“Penny for them, Buddy.”

“That’s all they’re worth at the moment.” He leaned forward, wishing very much that he’d bought another pack of cigarettes. “I just keep thinking, going over it again and again… how did I not see this? It was like everything was sitting right under my nose and I was too stupid to see it.”

“But you saw it in time,” Sandra insisted. “That’s worth something.”

“Hmm.” Buddy pulled a cigarette out of the pack, flicked his lighter, and took a drag, savouring that first burn. “Cold comfort, really. What's left?”

“What do you mean? What's left of Wilby? The Watch?”

“My life,” he let the cigarette dangle between his fingers, and Sandra saw his shoulders slump, as though all the adrenaline he'd had through the day had somehow left his body. “It's almost as though I looked at her one day and all I could think of was “Where did you go?” Like I woke up one day and I was sharing the bed with a stranger.”

Sandra shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “I don’t know what you want me to say to that, Buddy. It wasn’t my marriage.”

“No, I know that,” he insisted, taking another drag and then tapped the ash into the ashtray on the end table. “I'm not looking for absolution from you, because it's not about that.”

“So what is this about?” Sandra took a cigarette from the pack in Buddy’s shirt pocket and lit it with the lighter lying beside the ashtray. “I'm not sure what you want or need from me right now.”

“Truth be told I don't really know myself,” he admitted, taking another drag. “On the one hand…” he groaned, chuckled, ran his thumb across his eyebrow. “On the one hand I want to keep cleaning until I'm too exhausted to keep going, and on the other I want to climb into bed and sleep for a week.”

Sandra nodded slowly, flicked the butt of her cigarette into the ashtray to save the rest for later. “That’s actually pretty standard.” _As though you know_ , she chided herself. She looked down at her lap. “But there's something more?”

Buddy finished his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray. “There's a part of me that also wants to lay my head in your lap and cry like a baby, and another that wants to take you to bed because I don't want to be alone.”

“Again, that's pretty standard,” Sandra nodded. “It’s been six months since I told you no, Buddy, and truth be told, back then I would have jumped at what you're offering now, as though that wasn’t obvious. But with Carol just leaving… it can’t happen.” She patted his knee, then reached behind her and grabbed a couch pillow, settling in. “But if you want to lay your head in my lap and cry like a baby, that’s okay, because I'm your friend and that's what friends do.”

He gave her a quick flash of a smile, and shuffled over on the couch. He held out his arms and waited.

Sandra threw the pillow on the floor, pulled him close and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She could smell his aftershave… Old Spice, maybe? She wasn't sure.

He held her for what seemed like hours.

“Buddy,” she whispered, tapping him on the back. “Buddy, I should get home. Are you going to be okay for the night?”

“I think so,” he let her go and leaned back into the couch. She could actually see how exhausted he was now. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright. “I'm done in.”

“You look it,” she agreed. “Think you can get up the stairs?”

“Nah, I think I might just sack out here,” he spoke around a yawn, covering his mouth. “Sorry about that.”

Sandra yawned in response. “It's contagious, you know.” She stood up and stared at him as he moved to do the same. “It's okay, I’ll let myself out.” She waited as Buddy stretched out on the couch, and she pulled a blanket off the back, tucked it around him. “Sleep well, Buddy. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Mm hmm, good night Sandra,” he mumbled, and within seconds, he was asleep.

Sighing, Sandra did as she said she would, and let herself out. The air went completely still as she walked back to her car and drove for home.

 _Another time, another place,_ she mused as she drove, _perhaps things might have been different._

But for now, they could start to rebuild their lives. As Buddy had said, Wilby would bury them both on the island when the time came, and they had plenty of it.

Sandra pulled the car up in front of the house she and Emily shared, turned the engine off, and sat frozen in the driver’s seat, having no other choice but to accept what was right in front of her.

She really did love Buddy French, she knew, but right now, only as a friend. It would take some time to rebuild what they’d had when they were younger, but they were both patient people.

After all, she’d waited six months already, another six or so wouldn’t kill her.


End file.
